


Right Here Waiting

by Sams_Sass



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Angst and Romance, Dean Winchester Says "I Love You", Declarations Of Love, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Hurt Dean Winchester, Love, Love Confessions, Protective Dean Winchester, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-10
Updated: 2021-01-10
Packaged: 2021-03-13 22:40:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28661118
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sams_Sass/pseuds/Sams_Sass
Summary: You get hurt on a hunt and Dean faces the fact that he might lose you before he gets to tell you how he feels.
Relationships: Dean Winchester & You, Dean Winchester/Reader, Dean Winchester/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 41
Collections: Supernatural, Supernatural Dean Winchester Favorites





	Right Here Waiting

Deans back practically rammed through the door, almost knocking it off its hinges. He dragged you into the motel room with Sam running in behind him, his arms full of weapons and bags. Your head lolled from side to side against Dean's chest as he walked backward toward one of the beds. His limp was bad, and every step was agonizing, but he was determined to take care of you first. He threw you down on the bed and grabbed your face between his hands.

“Y/N!” He screamed, his voice nervous and shaky. You didn’t move, didn’t even flinch. He shook your shoulders, his bloody hands grasping your shirt.

“Dean!” Sam yelled at his brother. It was almost as if Dean didn’t hear him, just continued to stare into your face. “Dean!” Sam tried again, grabbing Dean’s jacket this time.

"Not now, Sam!" Dean shrugged Sam's hands-off and grabbed your shirt again, shaking you even harder this time.

"Dean!" Sam shouted, grabbing his brother by the jacket with both hands and picking him up off your body. Dean pushed against Sam's hands, his breath coming in fast and hard as he tried to get back to you. "Dean," Sam said softly this time. "She has a head injury; you can't shake her like that." He let go of Dean's jacket and patted his shoulder compassionately, telling him he completely understood his brother's outburst. Dean nodded quickly and dragged his hand over his mouth, feeling the blood on his skin. He looked down at his hand, and his lips parted at the shock of seeing it covered in blood. At that moment, he realized how much pain he was in; he collapsed into Sam’s chest when his leg gave out suddenly. Sam caught him and moved to the bed, helping Dean sit down next to you and looking at his leg. Dean kicked his jeans off and saw the wicked-looking gash across his thigh and dragging over his knee. He winced at the sight of blood and his torn flesh.

"How did you get so lucky? That wendigo tore me and Y/N apart." Dean asked Sam, who seemed unharmed.

“I have a bullet wound on my arm from when Y/N shot at it and missed it," Sam said, his voice was eerily calm.

“You have a bullet…Sam!” Dean screamed. He started looking at Sam's arms, and sure enough, there was a hole in his left jacket sleeve with a stream of blood trailing down.

"I'll worry about it later. You could bleed out." Sam said, getting out the stitches and gauze. He moved his left arm as little as possible, stitching his brother to the best of his abilities. Dean distracted himself by looking over at you, your face peaceful on the puke green bedspread. He couldn't imagine what would happen if you didn't wake up. He didn't want to look in the rearview mirror again if you weren't curled up in the back seat, your eyes catching his every once in a while. He didn't want to fall asleep at night without listening to your quiet breaths, even and steady. How could he manage another hunt without being able to celebrate with you after? He didn’t want to think about it, couldn’t let himself fall into that pit of despair.

His thoughts were interrupted when Sam accidentally stabbed him; he mumbled a “sorry” and kept working. He finally finished, wiping away at all the blood and standing up. He handed Dean the gauze and flopped down next to him on the bed, slowly taking off his jacket and shirt. His hands clenched from the pain. Sam turned so Dean could clean and inspect the wound for bullet fragments. Finding none, he wrapped Sam’s arm in gauze. The brothers then passed a bottle of whiskey back and forth between them, looking back at you with every sip. Sam placed a reassuring hand on his brother's shoulder, sending him a small smile.

“She’s gonna be okay." He said. Dean didn't answer; he just kept staring at you lying on the bed.

“Sam I…” He let his voice trail off, not wanting to finish his sentence.

“I know, Dean. I know.” Sam nodded his head and looked at the ground. You had been unconscious for about two hours now, and the boys were both growing with anxiety. Sam considered you his best friend. His companion on this long and broken road. He loved you and often showed you, exposing his thoughts and feelings to you when he couldn't count on anyone else. You were like a sister to him, a familial and strong bond that couldn't break. Dean was a different story. You and Dean were more than close. He considered you an extension of himself. He found himself waking before you so you would have a hot coffee when you woke up. He found ways to touch you, to let his skin move over yours for just a moment. No matter how fleeting the time maybe. He wanted to be flooded by you, surrounded by you in the dark of night. To feel your hair tickle his skin. Your scent cascades its way through him and fill him completely. He dreamt of a time when he could look into your eyes, deeply and passionately. Dream of a time when he could run his hands through your hair, feeling the strands slip between his fingers. He thought of you every day. Whispered your name into the night.

Now it looked like you may be slipping away. He could barely stand to look at you, knowing how badly you were hurt. Your skin was starting to bruise. A grotesque handprint was on your bicep where the wendigo had grabbed you and thrown you into the cave wall harshly. He scowled at the memory and swallowed thickly. He moved and limped his way into the bathroom, wetting a washcloth with warm water. He limped back to the bed and signaled to Sam to help him move you into a more comfortable position. He laid your head on the pillow while Sam straightened your legs before moving to his bed.

“Want me to stay up?” Sam asked.

"Nah, Sammy, I'll watch her," Dean responded, sitting back down next to you on the bed.

"Okay, wake me when she wakes up," Sam said around a yawn. Dean gave him a small smile and lifted your hand in his, beginning to wipe the dirt from your skin. He gently wiped all your exposed skin, pushing the hair away from your forehead. Your chest was moving slowly but surely, up and down, giving Dean a sense of peace. He moved toward the head of the bed and leaned his back against the headboard, stretching his aching muscles. He grabbed the bottle of whiskey again and watched the amber liquid slosh in the glass. His eyes kept wandering back to you, worry evident on his face.

Your face twitched first, eyebrows furrowing and lips curling. You moaned and rolled your head slowly, eyelashes fluttering open.

“Hey. Hey. Don’t move too much.” Dean said. He pulled himself over to you and grabbed your hand within his, looking into your fluttering eyes with concern. Waking up to Dean was something you could get used to. Jade eyes and freckles were greeting you softly. You groaned and suddenly felt the heaviness in your head. The pounding and splitting ache felt as if someone filled your head with rocks and shook it violently.

“Dean? What happened?” You whispered. Your voice was raspy and weak.

"The wendigo. It threw you against the cave wall. You hit your head pretty badly." He whispered back; his fingers brushed against your cheek as he tried to assess the extent of your head wound.

“Jesus, it's bright in here." You grumbled, lifting your head slightly. Dean tried to wrap his hands around your shoulders to support you. "I'm fine." You mumbled and tried to sit up, immediately regretting your decision. The room spun, and nausea hit your stomach hard. You fell back against the bed and placed your palm against your forehead, your eyes slamming shut.

“Shit, Y/N, just lay down.” Dean’s voice sounded annoyed and concerned at the same time.

“What’s that sound?” You asked through gritted teeth.

“What sound?” Dean asked, looking around the room with wide frantic eyes.

“That ringing! Oh my god, it’s so loud.” You said, moving your hands to your ears.

“Y/N? Y/N! Hey!" You heard him talking over you, but the sound was so loud, and you were so tired. Your skin felt heavy on your bones. Your neck was unable to lift your head. You couldn't take the ringing anymore; it was so loud in your head. Bouncing off your skull like bullets. The room began to shrink around you, the corners of your vision becoming dark and blurry. Your eyes closed again, and you slowly sank into the blackness that was calling your name with its warm voice. You felt your body move but didn't wake. Felt smooth leather of the backseat of the impala against the skin of your hands, but didn’t move. You thought you heard Dean's panicked voice saying your name but knew it was just a dream. The soft feeling of sleep surrounding you in its peaceful and calming hold.

Dean grabbed your face in between his hands, his mouth repeating your name over and over again as he watched you fall into the blackness. Sam raced to his brother's side, falling to his knees on the side of the bed, looking at your closed eyes.

“Y/N!” Dean screamed. “No, no, no, no, baby. Wake up for me.” He pleaded, this thumbs rubbing circles into your cheeks.

"Dean, we have to get her to the hospital!" Sam yelled, standing up and putting his hand on his brother's shoulder. He practically pushed Dean off of you and bent at the waist, placing his shoulder into your stomach, wrapping his arm around you, and lifting you as if you were a sack. Your body fell over his shoulder. Your hands swayed, and your fingers brushed against the back of his thighs. Dean pulled pants onto his legs quickly and limped to the car. There was a growing worry between them for your wellbeing. The silent communication that they often shared was thick with concern. Sam drove to the closest hospital while Dean held you in his arms in the backseat. His hands moved over your arms and shoulders. His mouth whispering your name and soft ‘please’s and ‘not yet’s into your hair as his lips brushed your ear.

\------------------

The hospital was bright and loud when the boys pushed through the door. Dean limping, his stitches pulling with every step while Sam had you thrown over his shoulder. Nurses ran over to the three of you and helped Sam place you on a stretcher. They wheeled you away, and the boys looked helplessly down the white and sterile hallway. The stretcher rammed through the double doors, and you were gone. The doors closed, and Dean felt his heart sink lower into his chest, hope fading inside him quickly.

Dean was sitting next to Sam in the waiting room for family. The blue plastic chair was uncomfortable and hard against his aching body. He didn't know how to feel or act. His body felt old and used. His mind felt fuzzy and disoriented. He couldn't decide if he was heartbroken or angry. His soul was in a battle between an explosion of anger and pain or silent suffering within his skin. He rested his elbows on his thighs, ignoring the pain against his freshly stitched skin, and bowed his head. Tears sprung to his eyes, but he swallowed them down, not allowing the flood to happen yet. You had to be okay; you had to pull through. You were strong. So fucking strong. You had to wake up, open those beautiful Y/E/C eyes of yours and give Dean that small smirk that made his heart stop.

“Mr. Jacobson?” The doctor asked, looking around the room and interrupting Dean’s thoughts.

“Yes?” Dean said, standing up and limping towards the doctor, Sam right next to him.

“You’re here for Serena Jacobson?” He asked, checking his clipboard. You had this all planned since you started working with the boys. You all had false papers with fake names for insurance purposes. On some, you and Dean were married; on others, you and Sam were married. Dean just happened to be the one who threw the papers down this time.

"Yes," Sam answered this time, swallowing hard and looking at Dean for a moment.

"She suffered a severe concussion and had some brain swelling. At the moment, it is still touch and go; we have her on sedatives that we will slowly decrease, so she wakes on her own." He said. Dean blinked his eyes and furrowed his brow. He couldn't understand what was being said. His world was collapsing around him as his heart rate skyrocketed. His breath became loud in his ears. His body stiff and cold. Sam placed his hand on Dean's shoulder, and his world snapped back to him suddenly.

“But she’s gonna be okay, right? Doc, she’s gotta be okay.” Dean asked, his voice small.

"Right now, that's up to her." He said, his fingers tapped his clipboard as he nodded at them and walked away. The boys found your room, and Dean thought he was going to vomit. The sight of you in that white, clean, and sterile bed made bile rise into his throat, gagging him slightly. A bed that others had laid in, been sick in, and died in filled his body with dread. His feet brought him over to your bedside. Sam stood on the other side of you; he brushed his fingers along your arm. Dean couldn't bring himself to touch you just yet. Your glowing skin looked washed out and dull in the harsh fluorescent lighting. The bruise on your arm stood out against the white sheets. You seemed so small in the bed, so weak and broken, a complete contrast to how you usually were. Dean felt the tears hitting the blanket before he realized he was crying. He couldn't lose you, not yet. Not ever.

\--------------------------

You opened your eyes to a sea of color. Green, blue, yellow, red, pink, and purple surrounded you. You felt warm under the sun, its soothing heat touching your exposed skin. The grass was scratchy under your thighs and elbows. The smell of summer was heavy in the air. It's thick and sticky air pulling into your lungs. Purple and pink flowers poked out of the green grass, their faces turned up towards the sun's light. A small creek tripped and stumbled over stones behind you; the sound of it filled you with peace. The sky was so blue with puffy white clouds hanging in it as if someone threw handfuls of cotton into the air. You blinked and looked around, slightly confused about where you were.

"Y/N! Come here!" A male voice said. You immediately sat up to find the source. Your heart dropped in your chest when you saw him, lips parting and breath catching in your throat at the sight. He looked shorter than you remembered. His shoulders that you used to ride on broad and expansive in his simple white t-shirt. He smiled at you, and tears prickled the edges of your eyes instantly.

“Dad?” You asked, standing up and moving towards him.

“Hey, Y/N/N, I’ve missed you so much.” He said with another smile that stung your heart.

“What is happening? What’s going on?” You asked him, sitting down in front of him.

“You’re hurt, sweetie. We are in a space between earth and heaven.” He answered, his body leaning closer to you.

"The wendigo." You said, remembering your head wound. You looked away at the expansive landscape in front of you, understanding, settling in your bones. "I'm dying." You whispered.

“That’s up to you, Y/N.” Your dad replied, his voice just as warm as you remembered.

“What do I do, dad?” You asked him with a trembling voice.

“Whatever you think is best.” He said back, his hand coming to cover yours, and you couldn’t stop the flood that completely engulfed you with emotion. You closed your eyes and relished in the feeling of his skin. He was right here in front of you, and you couldn't stop the swarm that filled you, breaking down all your walls and sweeping you away. You wrapped your arms around your father and took in his scent, clutching his shirt between your fingers.

“I can’t lose you again, daddy.” You mumbled against his shoulder.

"We can stay for a bit; tell me about your life." He said, his hands running over your back comfortingly. You nodded and sat back again, wiping your eyes and sniffling.

"Well, I'm a hunter just like you raised me to be. I hunt with these two men, Sam and Dean; you would like them a lot. Sam is like my big brother; he looks after me and I him on hunts and just in general. He is brilliant and kind; I enjoy his company so much because there is something about him that reminds me of you," You looked up at him with a small grin; he smiled back and nodded, silently telling you to go on. "then there’s Dean, he’s a bit of a different story. He’s strong, really strong. He’s selfless and compassionate…most of the time.” You laughed lightly. “He buys me coffee in the morning and gives me his jacket when I’m cold. He is a good man, they both are, but Dean…he makes me feel special.” You admitted, allowing yourself to say the words aloud for the first time and loving the warm feeling that spread throughout your veins. Your father smiled at you and nodded his head.

"Sounds like you are doing good, sweetie." He said, with a little laugh that made you smile. You nodded your head for a moment. Your lip started to tremble, and you made eye contact with him and slowly shook your head. There was so much you wanted to say, but only one thing came to your mind.

“I don’t want to leave. I want to stay with you.” You licked your bottom lip and let it catch between your teeth.

"That's an option." He said, tilting his head to the side and raising his eyebrows. "But is it the best option?" He asked, and you already knew the answer.

\------------------------

Dean swallowed thickly and finally took your hand in his, rubbing his thumb over your wrist. Your skin felt cold, and it made him wince. He opened his mouth to say something but closed it again when he couldn't speak the words. He needed to tell you how he felt. He didn't know if you could hear him, but he had to try. Had to unleash his feelings for you to know. He turned towards Sam and cleared his throat, licking his lips and controlling his emotions for a moment.

“Sammy, can I have a minute?” He said, hearing the crack in his voice.

“Of course. I’ll get us some coffee.” Sam said, nodding and walking out the room, leaving you and Dean alone. Dean turned back to you and wrapped his other hand around yours, warming your skin in between his hands. He looked down at your combined hands and opened his mouth, feeling his lower lip tremble with emotion.

"Y/N, I-I don't know what to say. I need you here with me. I need to wake up every day knowing that you are going to tell me, 'it's too early for good, morning is fine.'" He chuckled softly at the memory of your husky voice and disheveled appearance. “Ya know, when we first met, I thought there was no way this super cool chick was going to stick around. I thought you would work the case with us and then leave us in the dust. You didn't; though, you joined the family. I'm here, sweetheart. I'm here, and I'll be right here waiting for you, Y/N, always.” Dean looked up into your face and moved even closer to you, cupping your cheek in his hand. “Baby, please fight for this. I need you to fight and come back to me. I need you-I just need you, only you. I love you, Y/N. I love you so goddamn much, and you have to wake up, okay? You have to pull through and wake up, because if you don't…I don't know what I'll-." His muscles clenched at the thought of what he would do to save you, eyes closing and tears falling freely down his cheeks. "Come back to me, baby.” He whispered before he leaned forward and kissed your forehead. His lips trembled against your flesh, your hair moving from his heavy sobs. He sat up and clenched his jaw. He was beginning to feel numb. A cold and ominous breath was spreading through his body. He felt dead inside. His skin felt just as cold as yours did. His eyes just as unseeing as yours were. His heart is just as slow and unsure as yours was. He felt open and exposed to the violence that stood menacingly in the back of his mind. He let out a shaky breath and licked his lips, tasting the salty tears. He ran a hand over his face and closed his eyes.

“Y/N.” He breathed your name into the air. One could mistake it for a prayer.

\--------------------

You wiped your nose with the back of your hand, closing your eyes and bowing your head. You had an impossible choice in front of you, one that only you could make. It would be so easy to let go and stay here with your father, to live in this happy space with him forever. To get the time back, that was so harshly taken away from you two. It would be so easy to fold and let the sun warm you with its golden light. It would be so easy to watch the clouds roll by until the end of time, laughing in the grass as the creek bubbled in the background. To let someone else handle the hunting for once. Let them clean the blood off their hands. Let them dig graves in the pitch black of night. Let them be the ones stitching up wounds that leave scars along their skin. Let them be the ones who have wounds that no one could stitch up or fix. Scars that cut far deeper than the skin and into the very soul. It would be easy.

"Y/N." A voice called from a distance. A voice you knew all too well, a voice that sent chills down your spine. Dean was calling to you, his voice a breathy whisper. He sounded broken, and it made your heart skip a beat. You closed your eyes and let out a breath. You knew what you had to do.

“I have to go back.” You said, your body curling even tighter into itself.

“It’s not your time yet, Y/N/N.” Your dad said, his strong hand coming to rest on your shoulder. “But when it is, I’ll be here waiting.” He smiled at you, sad eyes letting you know this was the right choice.

“I love you.” Your voice broke around your words.

“I love you too.” He said. You closed your eyes and made your final decision.

\-------------------------

Your eyes opened to harsh light. Everything around you was white; all color gone from your vision. The grass no longer tickled your skin. The air felt cold, and it made your bones ache. The creek wasn't falling over stones anymore, instead replaced by silence. Suddenly, there was a beeping next to you that made you jump slightly. You blinked and turned your head to the side to see Dean sitting next to you, his hands wrapped tightly around yours. You couldn't stop the smile that spread across your face, your eyes softening at the sight of him. You wiggled your fingers that were trapped between his, giggling when his head instantly shot up, eyes wide and lips parted. He looked up at you, and a bright, warm, and happy smile touched his face, crinkling the skin around his eyes slightly.

“Y/N?” He said quietly.

“Dean.” You said, your voice soft and horse. He stood from his chair and stepped closer to you, his hands taking your face between them.

“I thought I lost you.” He whispered as he leaned down to press his forehead against yours.

“Not yet.” You said, laughing lightly.

\------

Sam stepped into the room and saw his brother leaning over you, your eyes were closed, but you were smiling. Dean leaned down and touched his forehead to yours, and Sam backed out of the room quietly, letting you have your space.

\------

Dean went to take his forehead off yours; you quickly grabbed the back of his neck and pulled his lips down to yours, finally letting yourself taste him. He let out a surprised grunt before quickly kissing you back, his fingers twisting into your hair as his mouth opened. He broke the kiss first, leaning back and looking into your eyes, searching for an answer.

"Y/N…I really hope that was more than an 'I'm happy I'm alive' kiss. Because I have been thinking about this for a while." He said, his thumb running over your cheek.

"No, Dean, that was an 'I've wanted to do that for a really long time, and being on the verge of death made me see that I should take chances and tell people how I really feel' kiss." You smiled at him.

“Good, because I have also wanted to do that for a really long time.” He laughed, lowering his eyes shyly.

“I heard you.” You said, taking his hand off your cheek and holding it in yours.

“What?” He asked.

“I heard you say my name when I was asleep. That’s what brought me back.” You said with a small smirk. He looked at you with a combination of embarrassment, awe, and love.

“I was right here.” He looked away and rubbed the back of his neck.

“Waiting for me.” You finished, smiling at the small chuckle that left his mouth.

“Always.” He whispered before connecting his lips to yours once more.

**I didn't know who to tag because I write so little Dean. If you would like to be tagged and you were not, please let me know!


End file.
